Archive | August, 2013

Here, now

Left of his bed, our hands, right of his bed, Castro Valley, CA.

Tomorrow will be the twenty-year anniversary of my mother’s death. Breast cancer metastasis. Hers was the second in a three-part string of family cancer deaths, the oldest to go (my dad’s younger sister died not very many years before).

My dad had only just retired from his position as a Geography professor just a few years earlier, and had been teaching classes at the local community college, primarily for the enjoyment of it, and because he’d been asked. The two of them were going to write a textbook together, a long-discussed and long-delayed project. Hydrology of California? Something in the field of physical geography. He had met my mom when they were both graduate students in Geography, and hydrology was her area of concentration. She helped draw the maps for his doctoral dissertation, later helped him craft syllabi, grade papers, and, when he was away, guest-taught his classes. She was always a hit.

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Rainy day cabin

Hailstorm near Soda Springs, CA.

In the realm of vacation getaways, we are perpetually dependent on the kindness of friends and colleagues who own such things. We’re lucky to have them. Kind, kind folks, whom Mrs Dad has known for years, offered their beautiful mountain home as a late summer getaway.  And so hence we hustled, laden down with playing cards, bathing suits, and gratitude.  This getaway the more appreciated since as of a few days into our last attempt at a family vacation, our girlie’s body temperature shot up never dropped below 100. So home we went, playing cards, bathing suits, and all, to nurse the rest of the week-long bronchial scourge.

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And then we visited the moon

Tufa Towers, Mono Lake, CA.

Not only wordless, but nearly out-of-this-world Wednesday.

Our original family vacation was to have entailed a trip to queer family camp  in northeastern California (a post in the germination room now), and then a trip thence on to L.A. I say “original” because our girlie took ill for the last half of the queer family camp. We didn’t go straight home, hoping that she’d pull off a miracle recovery. To her great disappointment and ours, she did not. Upside, we did take the scenic route home.

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Diner confidential

Post-breakfast confidence, Nicely’s Diner, Lee Vining, CA.


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